


Blink (Don't Miss)

by cjr09



Category: Galari Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, also reading that is so fuckign funny, anyway i love the ao3 tagging system i can just say whatever the fuck i want, bad, but also this is pretty dark so uh, i figured i should probs tag them since this is my life now, i love memes, i made my bed ill lie in it, it immediately makes this look like a crackfic and, its not that dark they get bETTER but the underlying is, listen i named the solar system memes, mentions of bullying, mentions of child abuse, teaching small children how to kill a man because they might need to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 10:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13762386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjr09/pseuds/cjr09
Summary: Blink is tired, for a very, very long time.Then they end up with some kids, and they learn to get better.(They were a vicious, sharp thing, dulled by time and disuse but they will sharpen in aninstantif their kids need them to be.With the help of an old friend, those bullies won't know what hit them.)





	1. This World Is Not Made For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is actually a bit of an aside; I kinda went off the rails as I was writing (vent) and ended up writing Blink's backstory. Not the original purpose of this fic, which is why it's chaptered, but good to get standing for the characters nonetheless.

Blink is mostly silent, now, but when they were young they used to _scream._

* * *

They were formed a destructive, wailing thing; all flailing stardust and bright eyes and big tears. They didn’t know what else to _do,_ then, because their head felt too full and touch was too much and the slightest sound could set them off and no one would _listen_ despite them screaming until they were sure the universe would swallow them just to shut them up.

They transferred from screaming to simple words and after that they never seem to _stop._

They learn to run almost as soon as they can walk, transfer from phrases to full sentences so fast its unnerving how quickly they skip the learning stage, doing something, _anything_ to fill the oppressive silence of their corner of the nursery that had fallen on it the day they were formed.

They figure out quickly enough that they’re… different. The nursery is so _boring,_ the stories that circle around too simple, the toys never entertaining unless they’re pulling them to pieces to see how they work. Blink _knew_ that they were off, that there was something _not right_ about them. They don’t have a name, and everyone else does, and they won’t for many years.

Maybe it’s the way the other Dusts shy away or whisper too-loud behind their paws, maybe it’s the way the Stars that come around look at Blink in a mixture of pity and disgust, like they’re torn between patting them on the head and crushing them into the ground.

Maybe it’s the way Blink wishes they would. (Whichever option; they’re still not sure.)

Or maybe it’s the way their mind _whirls,_ a maelstrom of half-formed thoughts and ideas Blink can’t form into words, the way their head _pounds_ and _screams_ and goes _so fast_ when everyone else is just _so slow_ ; when _everything_ is just _so slow._

So Blink-

Blink runs.

* * *

They’re out of their mind, half-feral with desperation and depression and a thousand emotions and thoughts they can’t name, but when they run no one calls them back. They hadn’t expected it, but it hurts, still, in the part of them that can still be disappointed in others.

Running quiets the pounding in their head in a way nothing else does; gives them the burn of physical exertion and lets them work through their thoughts one at a time and when they can’t focus they run faster, push themselves harder. Running makes their mind go _smooth,_ streamlined, capable of functioning at the most basic level.

They can deal with their thoughts, run their course and let them go. It’s the only kind of relief they’ve ever known.

There are some thoughts that latch on, though.

_What is wrong with me-_

_Why can’t I stop-_

_Everything hurts-_

_Broken-_

_I wish someone could fix me-_

They run faster, thoughts trailing hard on their heels, nipping at their tail and ears and the edges of their consciousness. If they run fast enough, travel far enough, they can leave these things behind and be _normal_ and then maybe find someone to _fix_ them.

They never do.

* * *

Blink isn’t sure how they survive, for the most part. They run and run and run because it’s the only thing they can do and they know they do it _well_ but it doesn’t matter because they can’t _think_ unless they’re running.

Galari don’t need to breathe, to sleep, to eat necessarily, but they need to catch their breath and rest and soak in the star’s light. They need to _stop,_ every once and a while.

Blink stops once and screams themselves _hoarse._

They’re trembling too bad to run properly and they crash often but they _run._ They run and run and run until the echoes of themselves ringing in their ears _stops._

* * *

They run which means they _travel_ which means they come across other Galari, eventually. They’re all so _loud_ and they look at Blink like they’re a creature possessed, like they’re wild and dangerous and pitiable, and Blink _hates_ it, makes their entire body shake and mind scream in rage and nonunderstanding.

Blink gets very good at avoiding others. Their spatial awareness is incomparable; they see better with their ears than their eyes and they learn how to run even faster when they step lightly, when their every movement is nothing more than a ripple on the surface of the universe and then even less than that.

When they can’t avoid they assess; Blink is sharp, and broken, twisted into a vicious thing and on the best days the presence of others around them makes their stardust crawl. Blink learns to tell aggression from rage from forced politeness and then the kind of pleasantries that others do when they want something from them.

The latter is the most dangerous.

When others _want_ something from them it’s always dangerous; they start by wanting their name then their home then their _skills_ because they are nameless and homeless but they are fast, light and lightning on their feet and this is _useful_ because it means they can _take things_ but even though Blink doesn’t know what they want they know they don’t want to _steal it._

They stop turning those down, eventually, and just keep running. They move faster, run harder. Blink learns. Turning down those who want things from them means that they are going to get _hurt_ so it’s better to never give them the option.

Blink travels more of the universe as a dust than most stars ever will. They are fast but they gain a reputation and a name from that. _Gone in a flash!_ The others joke as Blink races by, unnerved and unsettled but needing to confirm themselves, find solace in the fact that they are not nameless or homeless or plagued by their own minds. _Blink and you miss them!_

The name sticks. Blink doesn’t use it.

* * *

Blink grows from Dust to Asteroid with no fanfare. They don’t even notice until the stones on their body start to shift, preparing for the transformation into a planet.

They do not stop to look at themselves or wonder about what they have become; instead, they do as they always do.

Blink runs.

* * *

Blink is built differently than most Galari.

They’re odd for their type, less brute force and more coiled energy, long limbed but rail thin. They’re _strong_ in a way only practice can make someone, all callused paws and solar-wind swept stardust, unflinching in the face of solar storms and scorching rays alike. They’re quiet, nowadays. The static of their mind is something they only hear.

Asteroid to Planet is usually a big step- celebrated, beloved, as the visages of a world forms where the Galari can best care for them, where they can best hope for life to bloom across the barren landscape.

The stones of Blink’s asteroid form coalesce and converge over their middle, then _in_ their chest, held firmly in place by sharp strands of stardust.

Blink’s planet is lodged firm where their heart should be, and comes into existence at the edges of space, where the light of creation has yet to reach, light racing as far as Blink can see and going still. Blink does not slow to marvel at it, this barren rock that spins in their chest, too fast and too small for life to hold onto.

They catch snippets of conversation about it as they run, anyway. Others seem to think it means that Blink is _callous,_ which they are not, or _uncaring,_ which they are. That Blink cannot be bothered to properly carry a planet and thus has no care for life.

Blink doesn’t know if any others actually believe it or not. Galari shift and evolve depending on their circumstance, on what they need.

Blink is hopelessly, desperately, terribly empty inside. Their evolution is trying to _fix_ it, to repair the things in them that are broken and twisted and just plain missing, but despite the way Blink’s brain still screams at them sometimes it’s mellowed into numbness, a nothingness, focused on everything and nothing and so, so tired.

They are fast and sharp and vicious. Their planet spins too rapid in their chest for much chance of an atmosphere forming and there’s no star to warm it, there’s no chance for life of any kind. It grabs onto air and ice, sometimes, little particles Blink runs through as they travel. When that happens, their planet is obscured by storms, a whirlwind of glass and rocks and ice and every sharp thing Blink has ever been made out of or into.

Still, they do as they always do.

Blink runs.

* * *

They grow like that. Jaded, and tired, and sharp enough to cut.

They used to think about everything so much it _hurt_ but they don’t think much at all, after a while. They move like a ghost, a wraith- the universe itself barely notices when Blink sets a paw down, and the spots on their side give the illusion of far away stars, that they are nothing more than a shift in space; if they are noticed, they move too fast for anyone to be certain. Blink, and you miss them.

They do not make _friends_ but their mind is quiet enough now that they can stand the company of a select few for more than a few moments. Blink does not have friends but they have almost-acquaintances, others who grew up similar to them but not _like_ them.

Most of them like travelling, too, drifting from place to place with barren planets and dull stars and hoping for somewhere to settle but Blink has never _wanted_ to settle so they drift away from them, too.

They only maintain semi-regular contact with one.

Running isn’t the relief it once was, but it’s still their only avenue, the only thing they _can_ do.

So that’s what they do.

Blink runs.

* * *

When planet shifts to gas giant it’s more of a relief then they’d like to admit.

At least the nothingness at their core is covered, now.

Stardust and heart-storm swirling, they do as they’ve always done.

Blink runs.

* * *

When the dark dust storm of their heart breaks and light shines through, they’re surprised.

They’d honestly never expected to make it all the way to Star.

They are a shooting star across space, now, burning bright but dull at the same time, bringing their own light to the darkest corners of the universe, but otherwise, they don’t pay it much mind. They do not feel that they have changed, in particular. They do as they have always done.

Blink runs.

* * *

At the edges of the universe, in those dark places where most light has yet to reach, where Blink likes to run because there is never anyone there to run into, they meet a Dust who is far from home but is also homeless, so she isn’t, really. She chatters like they’re not at the edge of all the world, like she shouldn’t be anywhere but this lonely, desolate place where only the truly desperate roam.

She chatters like she’s terrified of no one listening.

It pulls on whatever Blink has left of their humanity, their kindness, their heart, and seems to surprise both of them because when she asks—

Blink stops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> believe it or not Blink was honest to god a throwaway character when i first made them but now i love them with the force of 100000000 suns
> 
> IF ITS NOT CLEAR Blink is very, very depressed; they weren't treated well as a child (overstimulated easily and couldn't figure out how to phrase what was happening and no one bothered to help them) and eventually that all-encompassing anxiety just burned them out into the dead inside galari they are when they meet Happi
> 
> first chapter out of probably 2? I have more ideas, but I need to make the characters in game reflect how I write them, which means I gotta d r a w and im sad and slow and lazy
> 
> WE'LL SEE THO both chapters are written, I just gotta make and approve some kids that show up in the next chapter
> 
> hope you enjoyed!


	2. It's Time To Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get better, and Blink gets more kids.
> 
> Blink _worries._

After Happi, Blink’s system does not so much _expand_ as _explode._

It grows in leaps and bounds, in Happi’s grand, sweeping gestures and harebrained schemes, in chance encounters and tears. It grows by rumours and relief, with a wild kind of desperation; silly and sharp and half-feral with hope.

Blink can see themselves in the kids, in every new one that seems to appear every time they turn their back.

In the way Happi _has_ to speak, has to say everything on her mind in stuttering, too-loud sentences, desperate to voice her ideas before she loses them and even more so to simply be heard;

In the way Snailbot goes still and quiet so often, steps so lightly even Blink’s sharp senses can barely track him, in the way he has to step back and _shake_ because everything is too overwhelming to them, sometimes;

In the way Aria cuts her songs off around strangers, refuses to raise her voice unless absolutely necessary, the way her words go sharp and short and don’t flow at all;

In the way Toast needs to know where everyone is with a protective kind of desperation, like they’ll vanish before her eyes if she takes her gaze from them for more than a second, like the burden of their safety falls squarely on her small shoulders;

In the way Kazoo’s lights dull to nothing when they’re outside the safety of their system, in the constant thrumming rhythm that seems to pulse through their very soul, a tempo they can’t help but march to but few others can hear;

In the way Bee tries his best without ever truly believing he will succeed but _has_ to try anyway, has to give everything he does all that he is because he’s terrified to give it anything less, terrified to be tossed aside if he is anything less than perfect;

In the way Whiz never says anything, at all.

Blink doesn’t know how they came to be the safe harbor for these beautiful, brilliant, _broken_ children and it is a blessing and a curse all at once.

Blink does not want to do what they know they have to.

* * *

Blink does not _feel_ things, for the most part. They have been numb and nothing, something less than dust for a long, long time. The universe shifts and changes and other Galari move and grow around them and for the most part Blink just doesn’t _care._ They notice, distantly, but they are as far removed from others as the universe itself is, not aloof or above or malicious but _uncaring._

They were simply… void, for a long, long time.

This changes, with the kids. Blink has never found joy or solace or anything other than a grating _too much_ in the presence of others, but they have all of these and more in their system. It isn’t perfect, of course- Blink wants to _run,_ sometimes, run and run and never look back and never slow down, and sometimes they need to step back and calm down because it is all too _much_ for them.

They never have the right words, they worry they are too rough or too gentle when they play, like they are never enough, never _giving_ enough, that any other Star in the universe would be safer for them to orbit, warmer and kinder and everything that the kids deserve and Blink isn’t.

Blink worries that they have become a bad person, the worst kind of person, because they are selfish and hold onto the kids just as tightly as they hold onto Blink because Blink doesn’t want to lose this bright, happy thing they have found, that they have helped build, that bring light to cold darkness of Blink’s life.

Even if it’d be for the best, even if there was someone else who could take care of them better, give them more, defend with more surety, Blink is _worried_ because Blink is _selfish_ and doesn’t want to give them up, give this up.

Blink is _worried_ and they have not felt this kind of gnawing anxiety for time unknowable.

Blink _worries_ because they need, desperately, fervently, to make sure these children do not grow up to be like _them._

* * *

They’re wonderful, clever, beautiful children and Blink is not naïve enough to think that they are _innocent,_ not in the way they should be, because they’ve all been hurt in the worst of ways, started to twisted into the sharp, vicious thing Blink had been and Blink can’t _stand_ it.

Blink learned to run before they walked and Blink is _terrified_ that they may have to teach them to be sharp instead of silly, vicious instead of kind, how to run from a fight, how to flee to _stay alive._

(Blink hadn’t forgotten how cruel others can be, especially Dusts to other Dusts. It was simply… a memory swept over by solar winds, an edge dulled by time and the erosion of sadness and solitude. It sharpens with a _vengeance_ when Blink sees it again in Nova’s Nursery, violence and vileness, arrogance and hatred that cuts them to the core. It makes their head _full_ in ways it hasn’t been in time Blink has never measured, couldn’t have if they’d tried, like flipping a switch and firing up their rusty vocal chords to _scream._

Blink held it together for long enough to flee, to take Happi and Snailbot and _run,_ but they run entirely on instinct, on remembered motions and bone-deep fear.

For the first time in a long time, Blink’s mind _whirls.)_

The kids are bright and clever but when Toast moves too fast out of Snailbot’s line of vision and he flinches out of instinct, Blink’s mind goes quiet and smooth in a way it only does when they approach lightspeed, decisions they had been weighing since they walked into the Nusery made in an instant.

No matter how selfish Blink is, no matter how broken and twisted and sharp, no matter the lessons they may have to teach, they will _not_ allow their children to be _scared._

Blink just hopes the kids will forgive them, someday.

* * *

Blink traveled for a long, long time, has covered distance comparable only to the Gods of their universe. They’ve met lots of Galari, all in passing, but a few have remained on relatively friendly terms. And Blink, for all their broken and twisted pieces, for all they fail to notice in others and around them, is a _remarkable_ tracker.

They pack the kids up for a day trip to the Celestial Forest, and leave them in Koko’s care- the massive Galari is almost terrifying in his enormity, a being that seems to stretch for too long, like he could rival the Gods of their Universe and then the Universe itself for size.

But he is also, in every sense of the phrase, a giant softie.

Koko has long been of the opinion that Blink is in desperate need of a hug or twelve. He is _delighted_ to meet Blink’s small army of Dusts, and immediately declares they’re in even more need than Blink is, and busies himself with carefully hugging them all.

(Koko’s so massive that it makes Blink _freeze_ with fear to see their kids against his massive from, makes their mind _scream_ to keep them safe, to take them back and take them home, but Blink swallows against the urge.

They’re _here_ so Blink can keep them safe.)

After some protests, the Dusts are settled- they seem wildly suspicious and range from poorly hidden delight to uncertainty and oversensitivity.

Koko is careful- he always is, a gentle giant, and where Blink struggles to read other Galari with much success Koko seems to understand them at an instinctual level, careful and always mindful of individual needs and boundaries.

It makes Blink’s paws itch to run for being apart from them for even an instant but there is something they _need_ to do.

Blink could not bear to lie to their kids so they tell them the truth- they’re going to ask a favor of a friend. They are clever things, and Blink doubts they believe that their Star is telling the whole truth, but they don’t ask.

(The trust they place in them is _awe-inspiring_ and _terrifying_ and only cements their decision further.)

Blink knows that the sooner they leave the sooner they can get back so Blink does what they are good at.

Blink _runs._

* * *

When Blink had been a Planet Galari, half sharp, vicious things and half dull, blunt ones and intent on running themselves into _dust,_ they’d met Alfie.

Her name is, in full, Ælfswiþ, a name she’d introduced herself as with pride, let ring in the space around them before waving a delicate hand in dismissal and instead asked to be called _Alfie_ despite the fact that Blink can pronounce her name just fine. Blink had blinked in response, and they had struck an easy kind of comradery.

Blink likes to run, and Alfie likes to explore, so when their paths ran parallel they’d run together. Alfie is small for her type, which is already the smallest one Blink has seen, so she’d always been about half of their size, which means she can hitch a ride on Blink’s back with minimal difficulty, trading a story that may or may not be true for a ride to her next destination.

When Blink had met her, she’d been carrying a planet just as vicious and sharp as Blink’s own almost lazily, like carrying such a thing didn’t make every step _hurt_ , all squared shoulders and raised head and _strength._

Blink’s sharp edges had dulled over time, exposure weakening the sharp parts of them into something a little less dangerous, if just as twisted.

Alfie, Blink knows, has only gotten sharper.

* * *

Blink doesn’t think they’ve ever sought Alfie out on purpose on their _life_ and, judging by the questioning look in her bright green eyes, she doesn’t either.

Alfie is a small thing; she looks delicate, all purples and greens and a wild mess of stardust on her head and dark markings across her shoulders and over the bridge between her eyes. Her tail is long and winding and she carries a star that hurts to look at like precious cargo in her hands.

Her every step is measured, calculated, strength in every line of her body and speck of stardust that makes her form, and she is _exactly_ the person Blink needs.

“I need a favor,” Blink says, probably the longest phrase they have ever spoken to Alfie. Alfie’s eyes spark further with interest.

* * *

Blink knows what they’re asking is no small task, not something that can be called a favor, but Alfie hears them out anyway.

“They’re so young,” Blink tells her, babbling because they have never learned the art of words, have always spoken too much or too little, “They’re so young, and the others are so _cruel_ to them, because of who they are, _what_ they are. They need _help._ I was-”

Blink stutters, then stops, but Alfie does not interject. She’s sharp in more than one sense of the word; she probably knows what they are asking, already, but they need to _ask._

This is not something that can go unsaid, something that can be implied. Blink needs to take _responsibility._

“They need to learn how to protect themselves,” Blink says, and it feels like their star is dying as they do, “I want to wait but they need to learn _now_ and I can’t teach them.”

“They’re a bit young for my kind of protection,” Alfie says, a gentle reminder, “Besides, weren’t you the one who told me violence wasn’t always the answer?”

They both know Blink said no such thing, though they may have implied it in the arch of a brow. Blink finds they can’t recall, and don’t want to.

“It can’t wait,” Blink says, because every passing instant they grow more terrified that someone will come for them, will hurt them, and Blink won’t be able to help, “You’re the only one I know who can teach them anything useful.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only person you know,” Alfie says, though not unkindly. Blink can’t read the look in her eyes well enough to hear what she is implying and they do not want to leave this to chance.

 _“Please,”_ Blink says, and _that_ makes Alfie startle, “they’re so _small.”_

Alfie looks at them for a long moment in silence.

“I’ll come visit before long,” Alfie concedes and Blink slumps in relief.

* * *

Blink races back to the Celestial Forest and their thrumming anxiety only quiets when they carefully look over each of their kids, who are nothing but smiles and delight, _settled_ in a way they usually aren’t, if a bit tired from their long day.

Blink lets Koko give them all a hug goodbye before they leave for home, anxiety warring with contentment in their chest.

They have never known how to be tactile with others, but Koko hands out physical affection in spades; it’s something their kids were sorely lacking and Blink hadn’t really noticed but now that they _have_ they resolve to learn.

They need to do better.

They need to _be_ better.

Blink has never been one for prayers but they pray to every god that the kids will forgive them.

* * *

True to her word, Alfie visits.

She is, as always, a hurricane, strolling into their solar system like she owns it, straight shoulders and bright colors and _strength,_ all confidence and command.

She bears down on Blink and the kids with a single-minded focus.

(Blink has, in all their travels, never met another like her.)

She strolls over to where Blink’s kids have crowded, half hiding behind their Star as they peer at this stranger, but Blink does not react so they do not launch into one of Happi’s counterattack strategies.

“Hello, ducklings.” Alfie grins down at them, benign and gentle. “You must be the Dusts I’ve heard so much about.”

A few of the kids shoot Blink incredulous looks- Blink very rarely speaks, and they cannot seem to believe they would talk to anyone about _them_ , least of all with much frequency, but most of them manage to stutter out small greetings.

Blink gently nudges them forward with a sweep of their tail.

“You’re all such gorgeous little things, aren’t you? Smart too, from what I’ve heard.” Alfie smiles, all bright greens and purples, “We’ll get along swimmingly, I think.”

Blink relaxes, something inside of them heaving a deep, relieved sigh.

Alfie can help them in a way Blink doesn’t think they can.

Alfie can help make sure the kids are _safe._

* * *

She doesn’t immediately launch into the lessons, as Blink had half-feared she might; instead, she gathers the kids in a loose circle and tells them stories.

Blink has traveled far and wide, has gone further and seen more than Alfie likely ever will, but they’ve never really _visited_ any of the places they’ve been, never picked up any stories to tell. Blink is a voyager but Alfie is an _explorer_ and she has the tales to prove it.

Even in this, Alfie is sharp, calculated, careful; she tells silly stories, ones about how she had made friends in the places she had been, how they had fought and laughed and learned to work together. The kids are _enamored._

She talks about how even when she was _small_ she was mighty, about how she’d leaned on her friends who had leaned on her in turn and they’d each raised one another up. She stresses _friendship_ and the way the kids’ eyes light up makes Blink’s star threaten to cave right then and there because they don’t think the kids realized they could _have_ those, that they could _be_ friends, had never thought to put the word to their actions.

(It makes Blink’s mind _whirl_ with _rage,_ it makes them back into the sharp, vicious thing they were and will be again if these kids need it, with no hesitation, no regrets. It makes Blink want to race down the ones who twisted those parts of them in the first place and show no mercy.)

Alfie tells a few of those stories, silly ones with good friends on wild planets. Then, to Blink’s surprise, she steadies herself and begins to tell a story about a dear friend of hers.

(Blink has known Alfie long enough to know who she’s talking about; Blink has always been alone but Alfie hadn’t, not at the beginning. She had a brother, once. More than that, she'd had a _system_ once, something like the place they'd accidentally built, all sharp and clever kids with brave and broken hearts but with no Star to cling onto. When push came to shove they were pushed apart; Alfie was the only one who survived. She was twisted in ways Blink can only _imagine._ )

She talks about his bravery, how he’d always pushed forward to do the right thing, how he’d worked with others and led them towards victory, even on the battlefield. It is, perhaps, not the best story for children, but they seem entranced all the same.

“He was small?” Snailbot says, like he can’t quite believe the story even though he desperately wants to.

“Thin, and pretty weak too- I used to be afraid that a stray breeze would carry him away. He was small, but so very brave.” Alfie confirms, wry and just a touch sad. “The bravest Galari I ever knew, ducky. The _best_ Galari I ever knew. So when you’re frightened, when you’re scared because everyone else is so much bigger than you, just remember that he was small once, too. But in his mind, his _heart,_ he was _mighty-_ and that’s what really matters.”

There’s a long moment of silence before Aria turns to them, eyes bright and determined.

“Blink?”

“Yes?” Blink responds, a flick of their ears combined with a full-body rumble like a purr; they have long since been unable to keep the fondness from their voice when they speak to their kids.

“Will you and Aunt Alfie tell us another story?” Aria looks so hopeful, a look mirrored by the rest of her siblings, waiting with baited breath like Blink could ever tell them _no._

“Of course,” Blink answers, as Alfie discreetly wipes under one of her eyes.

As if there was _anything_ Blink wouldn’t give them if they could.

* * *

“They’re so _small.”_ Alfie sounds dazed as they stand a distance away, the kids all asleep in a pile after two more of Alfie’s stories- Galari don’t really need to sleep, but Dusts need their rest more than most, and they’ve had a long day.

Blink just nods because they know _exactly_ how she feels. They’re all such small, fragile things; Blink is terrified that one wrong move will take them away, never to be found. Blink doesn’t think they could _handle it,_ and if they did, Alfie wouldn’t be here, now.

“They remind me of him.” Her voice is wistful, just a shade off sad. “They’re so young but there’s a fire in those eyes. And a sadness.”

Blink doesn’t know how to respond. They’ve never been good with words; it’s another reason why they’d gone to Alfie. Alfie can tear someone apart with words _and_ actions and it’s that skill they need her to teach them.

Alfie’s grip goes tight around her star.

“I’ll keep them safe.”

* * *

The next ‘day’ is when all the kids stagger out of sleep and begin bombarding Alfie with questions again; she quiets them with all the grace of a queen, and explains what she’s there to do.

Blink hovers in the background as Alfie teaches them how to make a fist properly, when and how to hit someone who’s bigger than they are, stronger. Which, given each of their sizes, is basically everyone.

“Go for the eyes,” Alfie says, all restrained anger and sharp focus.

“Stardust won’t defend you, but it’s a marvelous distraction.” Alfie waves her long tail, has Toast charge her; Toast barrels through the stardust, horns down like Alfie had showed her, but Alfie’s already moved and safely out of the way, hard to see and harder to hit.

“The undersides of limbs are the weakest parts.” Alfie gestures to her own arm, demonstrates how the dust there is thinner, softer, to allow for movement.

“You’re fast- you’re clever. Use everything you have.” Alfie shows how a pawful of stardust to the eyes is as good as a smokebomb, how to make themselves less of a target and _where_ to target.

“Fight only until you can flee; you must be safe above all.” Her tone has no room for argument and no one does.

“There is no such thing as fighting fair,” Alfie says, voice barely above a snarl but the kids are holding onto her every word, adoration and determination clear in your eyes. “If you must fight, you will _win.”_

It makes Blink angry, it makes them _sick,_ to know that children so young must be taught these things. That they live in a universe that _allows_ for these things, that makes taking these beautiful, clever, broken children and making them into something sharp. Something that has to take care of themselves.

But it also makes Blink feel _relieved_ because they can see the adoration in each of the kids’ eyes and can see it reflected tenfold in Alfie’s.

 _Nothing_ ranks above the kids’ safety but having them know that they are loved is a close second.

* * *

There are still problems, of course.

Alfie is much better with words than Blink is, and while they may say the same things, with even more conviction, with surety, there is a hypocrisy to their words because for a long time Blink thought themselves wrong, too.

They still do, most days, but they will power through.

They have to do better.

They have to _be_ better.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” Blink tells them each and all, fiercely, wishing they had even a fraction of Alfie’s skill with words so they might believe them.

 “You might have different needs than others,” Alfie says, standing small but _mighty,_ “there is no shame in that. You are _you_ and that is the only person you have to be so be them _fiercely, unapologetically.”_

Alfie moves like she is on a warpath, like her words carry enough gravity to rival a black hole, enough force to physically destroy the nightmares and shadows and gnawing thoughts that haunt these kids.

“There is _nothing_ wrong with you,” Alfie tells them, as a group and individually, during sleepless nights and bad days in her no-arguments tone of voice, “You are different but you are not _bad._ You are special and you are not _wrong.”_

Blink is not the praying kind but they pray to every god out there that they are making a difference.

* * *

Eventually, Alfie has to leave- the kids are more than distraught, and Alfie herself is loathe to go, but she has work to do and worlds to explore. She promises to bring back gifts and the kids are mollified with just the knowledge that she’ll come _back._

Blink wonders if they would all be happier with Alfie, to stay by her side always in a system she defends, but Alfie loves these kids almost as much as Blink does and if she thought they were doing a poor job they’d already be dead.

For the first time outside of running, outside of _rage,_ Blink’s mind goes smooth and streamlined, like pieces falling into place.

 _Oh,_ they think. _That’s what that is._

Blink has never thought to put the word ‘love’ to the feeling before.

They’ve never been able to.

* * *

It’s a good feeling.

* * *

It pulls on Blink’s star every time the kids run through Alfie’s training- they’re all always very careful, and while they joke and play while they run through the motions they know it’s not a game. Toast’s horns are capable of running someone through, and Bee’s are surprisingly sharp and could _gut_ a Galari, navel to sternum. Kazoo’s lightshow isn’t just for show and they’ve got a signal system all worked out. They all know where to hit to make it _hurt_ and they have each other’s backs, learn to do so as a unit.

They’re bright, clever, _sharp_ things and they know what Blink’s trying to do, what they _have_ done.

They _pray_ the kids will forgive them.

* * *

Life returns to normal, for the most part. The kids grow and grow fast but they’re still Blink’s Dusts, for now, and Blink always has an eye and ear on the horizon for invaders.

Every so often, Blink leaves the kids with Koko, and goes for a run.

Blink’s kids are beautiful, clever, _sharp_ things and Blink doesn’t think for an instant they’re fooling them, but they don’t call them out.

Every so often, Blink goes to visit Alfie outside of her visits to the solar system, and they find a place as far from the kids as they can manage and practice trying to tear one another limb from limb.

* * *

The kids have to be safe, above all things- they need to know how to defend themselves, how to be _sharp_ and _vicious_ if it comes down to it, but Blink will do anything and everything in their power to keep it from coming to that.

Blink is built differently from most other Galari- they don’t need to aim or move strangely to burn _bright_ and _blind._ They are _strong_ in a way most don’t expect, hardened from a lifetime of running into something angry and twisted and downright _vicious_ when they need to be. They don’t have any horns or protective dust or built in distractions.

But Blink is _fast_ and Blink is _sneaky._ They step lightly and are colored darkly and their spots make them into just another patch of stars in space.

Blink does not _know_ fighting, isn’t good at it like Alfie is, like they fear the kids will be, but they do not fight fair.

They _love_ their kids and anyone that wants to hurt them has to go through _Blink._

* * *

Alfie, for her part, shows no mercy. When they fight they do everything short of locking into orbit; radiation pours from them in _waves_ and their blows crack the thick layers of stardust that make them _them_ and their stars _burn_ when they get too close to their physical forms.

Alfie has _no_ problems throwing her star like it’s a game of _dodgeball._

It’s not the best- Blink will never be prepared for everything, won’t know how to handle every fight and certainly won’t _win_ every fight.

But it’s all they’ve got and something it better than nothing.

They fight until the heat from their own stars is too much to bear, until the sounds of battle ring in Blink’s ears and in their head but their mind is smooth and clear with the thrill of the fight, until they’re sure the fabric of the universe around them is fraying under the force of their blows.

Then they step back, artfully apply some stardust to cover their wounds, and go back to work.

* * *

Blink’s kids are clever, sharp little things but they never brandish it without reason, without thought. Blink wants them to be _kind,_ desperately, wants them to be happy and try and _help_ others, the way they do now, the reason they’ve found themselves and each other.

They let Blink get away with their outings even though they’re sure that the kids know, just demand trips to the Celestial Forest and nap-piles in glow of Blink’s star in return.

Koko has come to expect it, at this point, and is always willing to lend a helping hand in looking after the kids and gives out hugs in spades and is always careful with Blink after their sparring sessions. He even comes to visit the solar system, more than once.

And just like that, Blink has _friends._

They wonder what themselves as a Dust, and Asteroid, a Planet, would think of that. Even themselves as a Star, not too long ago.

Even _now_ Blink sometimes thinks it’s too good to be true.

* * *

The fighting days are few and far between; they’re busy Stars, for the most part, with things to do and kids to corral and worlds to explore. Despite this, and the fact that they never talk about it, their system becomes the place Alfie always returns to. Their stars go binary, two to a system, two defenders of these wonderful, silly, sharp Dusts they've both grown to love above all other things; above Blink's running and Alfie's exploring, these children mean more than all of it. It's almost sad how sappy they've become.

“Blink!” Kazoo yells up at them, flashing their lights in an excited rhythm Blink recognizes; Bee crashes into them in the next moment and they both go down in a flailing pile of stardust and limbs. Snailbot laughs openly at them, then in a higher pitch as Toast throws him over her head and onto her shoulders, standing firm and smirking. Whiz whips past her ankles, Happi and Aria in hot pursuit; they trip up on one another then fall into the tangled heap that Bee and Kazoo have become with a series of angry yelps.

Blink is _besotted._ They _adore_ these kids.

Toast carefully makes her way around the writhing mass her friends have become and waits patiently for Blink to lower their head so she can step aboard. Obediently, Blink does so, barely blinking as she carefully climbs aboard, Whiz hot on her heels and Snailbot perched safely on the space between her shoulders.

Kazoo breaks free from the pile and races over, flashing wildly and giggling, and the others charge en-masse onto Blink’s form, vying for the best positions and arguing with fake seriousness.

“Blink!” Happi finally says once everyone has settled, “Can we go for a run?”

If they asked, Blink would race every Galari in the universe, would fight Thanatos himself, would find a way to _give_ them the universe if they wanted it and they’re _pretty sure_ at least Happi would take fondly to dictatorship.

But this is the one thing Blink knows how to do above almost everything; the only thing they do more is love these silly, sharp, clever kids that have made this place their home.

 _This,_ Blink can do.

Kids holding tight and mindful of their kickoff, Blink does as they always do.

Blink _runs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there it be c:
> 
> i fuckgn love alfie so much her character gives me life... shes gonna slam dunk typhon into a trash can and itll be glorious
> 
> blink loves their kids!!!! and they'll gut whoevers mean to them!!!!!!!! 
> 
> i love found families... so much... and again this was a vent so it was MOSTLY just to make me feel better all around


End file.
